Joke
by anodyneAvian
Summary: Then Dave Strider had suddenly become a tribute for an event called The Hunger Games. It was some huge joke, a joke that left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. They had wanted him to die. It was then Dave realized he was dealing with some sick people.
1. Punchline

**A/n: It appears that I have written a homestuck/hunger games crossover with Dave Strider. Whoopsie daisy.**

**There is no real order to this, I guess. I dunno it's been awhile since I've read the first book. I may write more sometime but, we'll just have to see.**

**In this case, the timeline for Homestuck would be sometime after Bec Noir came into existence, like when Dave went to go help Jade with her frogs.**

**Anyways, enjoy and I hope what few characters in here are in character.**

**EDIT: fixed up a few things and added some others**

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><p>Dave Strider shifted ever so slightly, the tree branch creaking with distaste from his movements. He was not one to be afraid of heights – after all he had lived in an apartment building all his life. That and cool kids were not afraid of things such as that. However, in this case, the tree's large height coupled with there being twenty three other people out for his blood, he had plenty to at least be cautious about.<p>

Tree climbing wasn't really his thing, Dave decided. He felt cramped from being in the same position for about an hour now. Getting into the oak had also taken more time than necessary, with several restarts and lots of slipping and falling. It was still much better than being down below, he wagered.

He twirled the sword in his hand ever so slightly, an action done mostly by his nervousness or well… Forget that. Cool kids weren't nervous people. __Really, __they weren't. But at the very least, it made him feel a bit calmer and gave his wandering mind something to focus on for once. The handle was warm and sweaty from Dave's hand but he could grip it will nonetheless. It was a straight edge sword, and appeared to be even shittier than any of the ones had used before. Just perfect_,___ just fucking perfect___._ He was a shoe-in for survival now!

Sarcasm aside, Dave figured now was a good time to reflect on past events. Things had been so hectic lately, between his brother's death, that stupid reality warping game and of course, somehow ending himself up in his current clusterfuck of mess. His memory of recent events was fuzzy at best and, quite frankly, he didn't understand a lot of it all that well but it was either now, while he was safe, or never that he tried to make sense of it all.

It had been after discovering his Bro's body. He had been too weak. Something, he figured, used some weird power on him, maybe? He remembered a voice. Or maybe voices. But he didn't have an exile from what he knew. That's how it had been, simple as that. Thinking hard, he figured it may have something to do with the creep who typed in white that Rose often talked with. He had never talked to the douchebag himself and didn't care past that. Still, something about that guy still gave Dave an odd feeling. He didn't like it. He was a cool kid, and he wasn't supposed to feel that way.

Dave thought. It didn't make much sense based on what little he knew about the white-text guy. What would he have gained from this?

Either way, it did not matter. He was still stuck here. Dave remembered green… some flashing, and then waking up even if he didn't remember going to sleep or seeing Derse. He woke up on earth, no less. However it wasn't like the home he had left when he entered the game, the place he left so long ago even if it had only been about sixty-some hours for him. This place had an odd vibe to it. Dave knew he was in the future, there was no denying that. After all, didn't Karkat say they had to rebuild their species during his stupid matchmaking chat? Even with that information, things still felt off.

He thought harder, trying to get past any black spots in his memory. What had happened…?

—

Pain. That was all he could feel. His whole body ached and his glasses dug into his face though he wouldn't dare try to get the energy to take them off, even if he could. Both of his hands were restrained and the room he was in surprisingly bright.

They were interrogating him.

But who was 'they'? He tried to think.

Dave listened, trying to not look like the frightened and confused thirteen year old he was. He face stayed ever stoic, any emotion hidden by his blank mouth and covered eyes. Luckily, they spoke English. However, there were words he did not recognize. What was a "Panem"? It sounded like a city, given the context it was used, but really, puzzles hadn't really been his thing so he decided to not put to much thought into that.

"He asked you, 'Who are you?'" A woman, who claimed herself a peacekeeper, said sternly, discontent in her tone. Dave's head snapped up. He had been too lost in thought to have heard President Snow ask the question. Dave chose to keep his mouth shut tight.

That had been a mistake. These people were not above torture, even on a child. So, he eventually told them.

"Dave Strider, s-sir," he answered curtly, feeling sore once more. He hated it all; the pain; how weak and small he sounded. His head pounded and ached, while he could feel blood caking his hair and skin. Dave's glasses had disappeared at some point but maybe it was for the better to keep them from breaking. The light hurt his eyes, which were unused to being uncovered. They weren't even all that great to being with, such being tied into the lack of pigment in them – giving them their red color.

As much as Dave hated his own eyes, the slightly shocked looks on the faces of the people in front of him gave him a haughty sense of satisfaction. They had caught him off guard, dazed from waking up in the middle of nowhere he remembered heading to the Land of Frost and Frogs last, and now it was their turn, if briefly.

There was no verbal comment made on them, luckily. "How old are you, Dave?" Snow asked in a sickening faked tone like he was restraining himself from yelling, apparently content enough with his answer but there was a bit of disbelief, as though Dave or Strider weren't used as names anymore.

"I'm thirteen," Dave said, voice sounding hoarse to his ears. He was tired… so tired. His mind felt jumbled and it was getting hard to focus with so much bright light attacking his unprotected eyes. They moved on, prodding him for stuff even he couldn't answer, or didn't want to. Where was he from? What district? Was he a rebel?

Dave answered them when he felt fit but often found he was rambling with metaphors or slipping a few snarky comments despite his tired state. These had turned out to be stupid choices. Pain, pain and more pain. He was wearing down their patience and they his own.

—

Why hadn't they killed him? Dave could not answer that, but at the time he was glad they didn't. Until he found out what they had planned for him: a certain Dave Strider had suddenly become a citizen of one of the districts and had been picked in some event called the Reaping to join an event called "The Hunger Games" as a tribute.

It was some huge joke, a joke that left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. They wanted him to die. They wanted him to die and have it entertain them_. _All of them. _On national TV._

It was then Dave realized he was dealing was some really sick bastards.

The days leading up to the games were odd for him. So many new sights and sounds and terminology to learn…. He got made up like some doll, forced to parade around in some ridiculous outfit based on a place he wasn't actually from; he met people he was probably going to have to kill or see killed, all of which where young; he had to train even though he was skilled fighter (though admittedly some of the things he had learned may serve him use if he were to get back SBURB). He was interviewed; he had to be tested on such and they even had the nerve to give him a low score!

The girl from the same district Dave had been put in flashed him a look. This was something she did often, not recognizing him and probably suspicious of such. Only she noticed however, the Capital having covered everything else up for the other districts with a bit of a editing and trickery. It made Dave feel a bit ill. He hated this all. He hated everything about this. He hated Panem, the games, the capital, everything.

—

It was the night before the games were to begin. Dave sat on the roof of the building they had been staying in, just wanting to feel the chill. The air was too polluted to even call fresh. For a split second he considered killing himself there and then but he knew that would be stupid.

He needed to get back to the medium, to his land. He needed to help his friends with the scratch and frogs, and killing himself was probably not going to get him there.

Plus, Dave figured they were smart enough to find some way to make a force field or something like that.

He also often came up to escape the stuffy feelings he was getting from this whole event and to get around from the girl tribute he was forced to spend so much time with. She seemed nice enough but he didn't want to befriend her. Not in these conditions. Plus, she often prodded him for answers, ones that he would prefer to say or ones that would get him into deeper trouble with the President.

There was a sound; some one was coming up. Instinctively he went to for his sword but than Dave remembered he no longer had it. His strife specibus and sylladex had been more or less confiscated and he no longer had any weapons. Now that he thought about it, did those things even need to be used in this place? It was so strange.

Dave merely waited his body tense. He adjusted his shades, able to keep them as part of the token thing they had going on.

A girl emerged from behind the door. She looked older than him and he vaguely remembered her. Was she the one who had been on fire? It had been admittedly very cool, even if it looked dangerous.

"Hey," e said, just nodding, not in the mood for company but deciding to at least not look like a total prick.

"Hello… I didn't think anyone else would be up here," She trailed off, looking like she had not gotten a wink of sleep for a long time. Dave just shrugged, not wanting to talk. The girl, Katie or something, continued to talk however.

"I like your freckles," she said simply, attempting some awkward small talk. It took a lot of will power for Dave to not blush. He felt like a small child again with that comment. "My name's Katniss," she added a bit nervously before looking like she regretted saying such. Alright, it was Katniss then.

"It's nice out," Katniss murmured. "I mean, even if it's noisy. Oh, I'm probably just talking to myself by this point. I've just been a bit of a mess lately," she sighed as she trailed off, hints of anger in her voice. The anger was not directed at Dave, though. He could understand why she would be angry, that was for sure. He had smashed quite of number of things, mostly to just spite people. But wasn't Katniss the chick who had some other player crushing on her? Probably, he figured. It didn't matter to him.

Things went silent again.

"It's Dave."

"What?" Katniss's head snapped to look at him, confusion and surprise dancing around on her face.

"My name, it's Dave," Dave repeated coolly. He__was __a cool kid after all.

"Oh, that's nice, Dave," Katniss gave the faintest of a smile but there seemed to be more regret of some sort. He figured he knew why. Knowing the name of some one would make them easier to recognize – easier to grow attached too. In a game of life and death, he figured that would not be a good thing to do.

In short, the whole conversation had been a stupid mistake.

—-

Dave kept himself close to the tree, the sound of someone walking by calling his attention to the present. Without his old weapons he doubted he could do much time travelling any more, so it wasn't like he could go back to fix anything by this point. It seemed his only option was to go linear.

When things seemed safe enough, Dave relaxed enough to go though the things he had grabbed from the statue earlier that day. There were some crackers, the already mentioned shitty sword, a dagger and water. He still did not what he would do for shelter just yet. Survival out in the wilderness was not his forte in the least.

Dave sighed, annoyed. Sometimes he missed being a kid. A normal, though completely ironic, kid from Texas who went to school, did stuff on the internet, played games and made music. That was it. No time travelling or stable time loops, no aliens from another universe, none of friends getting murdered, just normal things. He had known a long time ago that he would not be able to go back to that. The death of his brother merely pounded that into his head harder, giving him a migraine and a feeling that constantly tugged on his heart.

He wondered what his friends were doing, trying to not to not focus on anything that would make him feel worse. Oh, what'd he do to talk to them but his iShades couldn't connect with them. It was annoying as hell.

Would they go through with the plans without him? He doubted it but he didn't want them to all die – or any one, really. They were all he had left. Just Jade, Rose and John. He wasn't even sure if Davesprite was alive still. What about Terezi? Sure, she was creepy as fuck but he couldn't say he hated her. He hoped she wasn't dead yet either.

__Crack___. _Someone was coming. His snapped up as he was pulled out of the darkness of his own mind by the sound.

Dave narrowly missed getting hit by a knife. He had been spotted, sitting in the tree like a crow. He managed to get down with only minor scrapes and some bruises, face to face with another male. Dave drew his sword, advancing on him. It seemed like he clearly had the advantage even if he had been caught off guard.

Everything went to a stand still. Dave was the first one to move, going in for an attack. He narrowly missed, before bringing his sword up to block the kid's own blades.

Sidestep, turn, dodge, lunge. These where things he had done many times before. Things Dave knew very well. He felt a bit of reassurance. This kid was no where near the level of his brother's fighting, meaning that Dave stood a chance against him.

Their weapons clashed once more. Dave slowly pushed the other teen farther into the clearing they had wound up in. Pain sprung up from his face. He had been cut. Blood began to roll down his cheek, warm and wet. They continued to fight, Dave cutting up his opponent badly despite his own cuts and bruises, enough for him to drop his weapon. Dave huffed, tired from the fight but he would not kill the other boy.

No.

He could not bring himself to kill another human. Imps were one thing but… he just couldn't. Death scared Dave, even if he didn't want to admit it. It had always been a small fear of his; nestled away in a far corner of his mind but now it had grown like a parasite. It fed at his mind, making him fearful and had only grown more and more with time. With the game, his doomed timeline selves and the fact that they created an unbeatable boss it was hard to not think of death and mortality. Even John, who was a godtier, could die if under the right means. It scared Dave. But he'd never show it. He'd never show his fear, not out in the open. He wasn't some book that could be read.

He was Dave Strider.

That wasn't his kind of thing.

Dave took a step back and ran, leaving behind the bleeding male to fend for himself. He didn't if someone else killed the other teen care by this point. He just didn't want to kill.

Awhile passed and finally, he stopped his running. Dave sighed, finding a new place to camp out for a little while longer. What was the point of this all? Was he just another doomed Dave? Was his alpha version running around, helping his friends?

Dave wished he knew the answer to those questions but he did not.__It's no reason to give up yet__, a voice that sounded oddly like how he expected Egbert to sound like, told him. __What if you are the Alpha Dave still and this is just some test?__

Dave slouched as he sat down. The voice was probably right. No time to die yet. He was a Strider anyways. Striders were unbelievably cool and only died when the time came. Plus, he wanted to die someway cool at least. An ironic death would suffice his tastes as well.

Sleep tugged at his eyelids, even in broad daylight. He was exhausted, having had nightmares in the past few nights. It probably had something to do with the lack of a Derse in this place but Dave wasn't an expert at those kinds of things.

Sleep beckoned once more and everything went dark. He could only hope to not be killed in his sleep just yet.

Lady luck was on his side when he awoke. The sound of a cannon abruptly brought Dave into the world of the awake and living.

He moved out his secluded safe haven. There was something being projected in the darkening sky. He soon realized what it was: the tributes who had fallen in battle that day. Dave recognized one face. It was the face of the boy he had fought earlier. It had been a silent fight, so he did not know the name and could barely tell the age, but there was no mistaking it. It was the same person. Had he… had he been the one to kill him? After all he had been bleeding badly.

The thought made Dave's stomach churn. He felt disgusted, disgusted at himself. Hatred boiled up.__It was his entire fault! __He had killed someone! It had been an intelligent, living human being with dreams and family and friends just as he himself had. Dave stood there, rooted to the ground. He was not sure how much time had passed but he began to realize that this self hate was stupid. His hatred shifted targets. It was all this game's fault. It was the president's fault.

Oh, if he got out of this mess alive he was going to mess that guy's shit up. He was going to fuck with Panem's system __so damn much.__

Dave let himself smile as he slid into his destructive fantasies.

—

The fire licked at his heels as he ran. It blazed though the forest, heating the air until everything was blurry around him. Dave's body was coated with ash and burns, but he kept running. Fire, of course, was something he was used to. It was the main element associated with him, just as time was.

He had long abandoned his sword, the metal in the hilt heating up too much for him to bare carrying it and like a dumbass he just dropped it. The fire burned up the foliage too quickly for him to have time to go retrieve it at the moment.

Dave fought to keep his glasses on. He tripped, tumbling face first through the dirt and grass. He swore as he pushed himself up, just running; only taking a moment to clean off his shades. He was getting tired of that action, running. He was a knight, not some weakling who ran from every single thing. It didn't matter soon enough. Survival was the only thing on his mind right now. Nothing else mattered, not even people seeing a cool kid fall flat on his face on TV.

He ran until he could run no longer, collapsing in the dirt. He sighed, digging out his crackers as he waited for something else to happen as he stuffed his face. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Finding food would become the next priority.

Dave didn't know how long the games would last but he figured it was going to be a long day nonetheless.

That was at the very least, something Dave was familiar with.


	2. Onwards

**A/n: Oh, wow. I wrote some more for this... anyways this isn't anything special, but enjoy!**

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><p>To say he wasn't sure how much time had passed would be a lie; he knew. Dave always knew, but he never liked admitting it. Right now, his strong sense of the flow of time around him felt like a curse. He wasn't god tier nor did he have any other means left for time travel. All he had was some flash stepping and a built in clock.<p>

So, Dave;s powers were about as useful as an old phone with no minutes left.

He briefly wondered if this place had daylight savings or not, before finding a place to stay for another rest. His chest flared up with pain from an injury, and from all his running. For now, taking some time down seemed like a good plan to help with surivival.

Dave sighed to himself, running an aggravated hand through his muddied hair. What was the point of survival? All things pointed to him being nothing but a measly doomed Dave, ready to die yet again.

Why couldn't he just let himself die?

Of course, Dave figured he knew the answer to that anyways. For starters, he had something called pride. Because of that, a part of him was sure as hell not going to get him killed in a hellhole like the arena he was forced into.

Another thing the Hunger Games and the SBURB had awakened in him were his survival instincts. never minding how many a mess up kid like himself had, and a new will to live; to push on even in dark times, because dammit! He didn't want to die!

Dave managed to slow his quickening heart beat to a better pace, before settling down in an attempt to sleep, as the sun sank into the horizon.

It was the sound of growling that awoke Dave from a less than peaceful sleep. He ran off, taking his stuff with him as he tried to navigate the darkened arena grounds. It was hard, but it soon seemed as though whatever the Gamemakers had tried to set out to kill him - or perhaps to just to scare him - had gotten distracted.

His breathing was still erratic, but Dave didn't bother to slow it down, as he gripped his knees.

There was the sound of a branch snapping, which cut through the silence and the sound of Dave's own heart. He whipped around hard enough to hurt his neck, scanning the nest of trees that now stood before him. They loomed over, but at first he couldn't spot anything living.

Dave moved forward into the tiny forest, eyes slowly moving upwards. Then, he spotted her. Her eyes reflected the moonlight easily, and soon he could make out her outline.

They stared at each other; frozen at the sight of another tribute.

Of course she was in the trees; people didn't look up very much. He wasn't sure how she got there or how good she was at climbing, but he waged it was better than his own climbing.

Dave didn't tear her eyes off of her, taking in the girl. He remembered her vaguely from training. She had been the only person he remembered being younger than himself.

What was her name? It started with an R… Roxy? Ruth? Raine? No… he was sure it was a plant, but the only thing that came to mind was Rose. Dave swallowed at the thought hos his sister-slash-best friend, which itself brought a tsunami of other related thoughts involving her, Jade, John, Bro…

After two minutes five-point-three seconds of staring at each other, they could hear other tributes coming. The young girl looked afraid, unsure if she should move in fear of attracting attention to her from the other tributes, or in fear of provoking Dave to attack her.

Dave took in a deep breath. "Go," he whispered, loud enough for her to hear it. The girl looked confused, so Dave motioned for her to leave again. "I'll distract them." Ha! Now he was just being a hero, even if he knew he wasn't one. He never had been, so why did he try so hard?

It was sickening sometimes.

She nodded, and went off, going through the trees with a grace that made it seem like she was born to do just that.

Dave headed towards the voices, ready to fight. And that was the night he killed his second victim.

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><p>Dried blood was harder to wash off than Dave had wished. He washed, scrubbing at his face and body. It wasn't all his, but that only made him feel a bit ill when he thought of it.<p>

He had been close to death; or so he assumed anyways, but then of course someone had to save him by sending him the things he needed for his wounds. It was the only thing he had receivedd. One of those sponsors or whatever, but really he was surprised Snow even let people sponsor him.

"The old man must be laughing his ass off right now at my misfortune," Dave muttered, doing his best to keep what little food was in his stomach down.


End file.
